Letting Go To Hold On
by Zivacentric
Summary: 1st time Zibbs. SPOILERS FOR SEASON 10 FINALE, SEASON 11x1 & PROMOS FOR 11x2. In the wake of turning in her badge, Ziva goes to Gibbs' basement & admits she has feelings for him. After all, they are now technically in a world without Rule 12. But, things do not go smoothly & she takes off for parts unknown. What might have happened if he'd only held on instead of letting her go?
1. Letting Go

_A/N: So, it happened again. I was completely blindsided by a plot bunny who would NOT leave me alone. *sigh* _

_I have watched the premiere of Season 11, but have not yet watched "Ziva's Farewell" episode as I wanted to have this completed and posted before I do since it was triggered by what I'd seen up through the promos for this season's second show. RL and a muse who wasn't done with this in time - and who turned a one-shot into a three-shot (I know, you're shocked) - combined to delay the posting until now, though I'd desperately wanted to get it up before Ziva's last episode actually aired. Oh, well ... the best laid plans and all that._

_Apart from a bit more obsessive editing of the rest, the entire story is written and will be updated in daily (or sooner) succession, providing RL doesn't intervene. I find this to be an emotional piece and it is my intention to not leave you hanging for long between updates._

_This story is particularly dedicated to mmbrook, my compadre in getting through our gut-wrenching sadness over Cote leaving the show and to abstractartist, who was the first to suggest that within change can come inspiration for the muse. Clearly, she was right - which does not surprise anyone who really knows her in the least. =) _

* * *

Ziva slipped silently down the stairs, bracing herself for what she was about to do.

It was by far the most terrifying thing she'd ever done.

And Ziva David had been in some pretty scary situations.

Last night she'd told Tony she'd stopped expecting happy endings and that was true. She wasn't really anticipating one here, either, but she'd been driven not only to see if Gibbs was all right in the wake of all that had happened and what was to still to come, but also to reveal her most closely-held secret to him before she figured out what came next in her life.

No matter his response, no matter if she left D.C. because nothing remained to hold her here, she wanted him to know.

Though God only knew why.

Gibbs glanced up from where he was sitting at the large workbench of sorts he'd created in the center of the room from a slab of wood and a couple of sawhorses. His pulse rate kicked up a little as it always did when he was in close proximity to her, alone, especially with her hair down in waves looking just a little wild …

And those painted-on jeans and clinging black top didn't help matters.

This was the first he'd seen her – or any of his team – since he'd been pulled aside and offered a way out of his … predicament. He had not been told part of the deal would involve Tony, Tim and Ziva taking the fall meant for him until that was over and done.

Everyone knew he'd never have agreed to it if he'd been aware of that.

As Ziva and Gibbs faced each other across his basement, they were both acutely aware she'd turned in her badge to save him.

That she would have – and had – done more.

Neither really knew what to say about that.

"Ziver."

"Hello, Gibbs," she said almost formally, cringing inside at the emotional distance she felt herself throwing up between them when that had been all but erased over the years, especially when they were alone here in his sanctuary that he often shared with her.

She understood on the outskirts of her mind that her own fear, her instinctive need to protect herself, was erecting the reflexive shields.

Which was ironic considering that what she wanted with all of her heart was for them to be closer than ever.

"You okay?"

Something about her tonight worried him, unsettled him. She seemed uncharacteristically nervous, vulnerable even … which made him want to walk to her and wrap his arms around her.

And not let go.

With a sense of self preservation he couldn't explain right then, he did nothing of the sort and did nothing to give away his desire to do so.

She wasn't the only one with a protective streak a mile wild. In fact, they both protected everyone they knew whenever possible, including themselves.

She started to give an automatic "yes" to his softly-voiced question, then, never having lied to him before and not about to start now, she just shrugged.

Ziva honestly didn't know what the answer to that question was.

Gibbs stood, but rather than moving toward her, he went to the bench against the wall, emptying a couple of mason jars and pulling down his bourbon.

When he raised the bottle to her in question, she just shook her head.

Her stomach was roiling so much, she was certain the fiery alcohol would not stay down.

If anything, that worried him a little more. Ziva nearly always accepted his offer of a drink and they'd had countless nights in this very room when they'd shared more than one.

In fact, it had become something of a habit for them, though without conscious decision they hadn't broadcast that fact.

During those times together in his basement, they often ate take-out one of them had picked up after work or something she felt like cooking … laughed more than anyone who knew them would have guessed … sanded wood … shared bourbon on some nights, coffee on others and even tea on occasion … sat in comfortable silence or listened intently as each, once in a while, spoke of things rarely shared.

Along the way, they'd made peace with the tragic events that had taken place early on in this space which could have consumed any chance they had of having a relationship of any sort, but out of which their connection had risen like a phoenix and developed into something solid and multi-faceted.

Sometimes after a little too much bourbon or when she was just bone-deep tired, Ziva would fall asleep in a pile of blankets he kept down there. He sat up far longer than she did on those nights, alternating his gaze between watching her and keeping his eyes on whatever his current project happened to be, his world a little more complete – and complex - for having her there.

Not that he ever dwelled on that.

Not much, anyway.

Okay, never _out loud_.

But tonight … he could feel something different in the air.

And, if their usual equilibrium was off, well … that kinda scared the hell out of him.

Because … while he had no idea what was on her mind, there was a devilish voice in his head that wouldn't stop whispering that she didn't work for him anymore.

Which had implications far beyond the mere fact that she no longer had a job.

He poured a drink for himself and threw it back in one swallow. Because he felt his control slipping with regard to the feelings he had for her that he was certain weren't returned – why on earth would they be? - he looked at her and tried grabbing the reins of the situation.

"Why did you come here tonight, Ziva?"

Her eyes touched his face, then flicked away.

"You have said I am always welcome here, that I do not need a reason," she deflected.

"True," he agreed, then caught her gaze with his. "But something's on your mind."

After taking a deep breath, she nodded.

He allowed silence to weigh heavily in the air between them. Eventually she moved to fill it, though she uncharacteristically wound toward her eventual goal in a round-about way.

"Have you been told when you will be leaving on your mission?" she asked, ambling to the project on which he'd been working, running a finger lightly over the wood.

It took him a minute to shake off the breath-stealing image that crashed into his brain of her running that finger – and more – over him.

He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

She glanced up at the movement.

"I do not know what is next for me, either," she said with a sad attempt at a smile.

"Gonna get you back, Ziver," he said firmly. "All of you."

She shook her head with a resigned expression on her face.

"I am not so sure even the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs can accomplish that," she responded quietly. Then she looked him straight in the eye, the determination in her voice brooking no argument. "And if it means the deal is off and you are no longer protected, I will have no part in it."

"Ziver –"

"No, Gibbs. That is non-negotiable."

Silence reigned once more, full of unspoken meaning, not exactly uncomfortable, but not exactly comfortable either.

"I'll find a way," he promised.

She just shrugged. She didn't doubt he wanted to find a way, but happy endings of any sort had never figured largely in her life.

Speaking of which …

She grabbed for her courage with both hands and spoke over her pounding heart.

"It occurs to me that there is one advantage in not working for you," she began quietly, "at least for me."

His heart thudded.

Yeah, he could think of one, too. It fell somewhere between Rules 11 and 13, and if he hadn't been so convinced she deserved better than what he had to offer her, he'd have been all over that.

All over her.

He'd wanted her practically since they'd met and had fallen hard for her during those nights spent alone here in his basement.

But that didn't mean they should be together, so he'd barricaded that behind Kevlar-reinforced walls. He didn't want to lose what they already had because it – and she – meant too much to him.

It – and she – had slowly, but surely been filling a hole in his heart that he'd thought had been destined to remain an open wound.

Besides, he'd never quite been able to tell exactly what lay between her and DiNozzo – and was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

He'd heard the whispers, witnessed the flirting. Everyone seemed to think they would have been a couple by now if not for his damn rules. Hell, he'd even thought that himself, sometimes.

Part of that protective mechanism, no doubt.

But then he'd remind himself that it wasn't Tony's place she visited when she was looking for company, not his floor on which she felt safe and comfortable enough to sleep as someone watched over her.

Denial could be a powerful thing.

And complex didn't begin to cover the many emotions this woman engendered in him.

When he didn't ask for an explanation of what she was talking about, she almost left without finishing. Because it was nearly all she had been able to think about since handing in her badge, she felt like what she was trying to say was completely obvious and if he didn't want to talk about it …

Then maybe she didn't either.

Or shouldn't, anyway.

However, she'd come here with a purpose and, on some level, she'd regret it if she left that unfulfilled.

No matter the outcome.

"It has to do with your rules," she said in a low voice. She cleared her throat gently. "Rule 12, to be exact."

He turned away, busied himself with pouring another bourbon he didn't want just to avoid her face when she told him she and Dinozzo would finally be able to be together.

Guess he couldn't refuse to see it any longer.

"So, you and Tony, huh?" he managed, trying to get out ahead of the revelation before it could knock him on his ass.

As though that were even possible.

"What?" she asked, shock and confusion clear in her voice and on her face. Given where her head really was, she was taken totally by surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"You and Tony and no more Rule 12."

Before she could overcome her shock to respond to that, he said something else that shut her up completely.

Almost shut her down.

"And maybe that's a good thing." He forced himself to shrug and kept his back to her in case his expression was not as neutral as his voice. "Want you to be happy. Both of you."

After all, he cared for each of them. If that's what would make them happy, maybe he needed to get the hell out of the way.

Even if it killed him.

You could have heard a pin drop in that basement. And Ziva was fiercely glad she hadn't swallowed any of his alcohol as she was certain it would have been clawing its way back up her throat about now.

Her stomach was pitching as it was.

He wanted her to be with Tony? That was not a man who wanted to be with her himself.

She nearly abandoned ship again right there, but swallowed hard and forced herself to clarify what she meant. She didn't want to leave – and it appeared she certainly would be - with any misconceptions between them.

"I am talking about Rule 12," she confirmed quietly. He could feel her gaze on him, but he ignored the silent summons to turn around. "But I am not talking about Tony."

His heart pounded and hope sideswiped him, nearly knocked him off his feet … until he remembered that he hadn't had a relationship he hadn't screwed up in over twenty years.

He couldn't bear it if he screwed up with her, too, and lost her altogether, had to watch as the sparkle in her beautiful brown eyes gradually dimmed.

And she might not be talking about DiNozzo, but that didn't mean she was talking about him.

"I am talking about you."

He froze and his head swam.

At first, he couldn't make any verbal response at all.

He shook his head as though to clear it, but she misinterpreted the motion and her heart sank, sensing what was coming.

Then he husked out three little words that confirmed it.

"You should go."

She had no idea he forced those words out because he was instinctively ducking the possibility to which she'd alluded. Even if she meant it, he couldn't sentence her to being with a grumpy old bastard who might be too broken to give her what she needed, what she deserved, to scale those walls he'd built over decades – and if she stayed much longer, he was going to say to hell with that and grab her up and never let go, anyway.

Despite the two-of-a-kind closeness that existed between them, it seemed they were each still capable of completely misreading the other.

Of standing on either side of a chasm that could only be bridged by admitting they loved each other.

But bridges could be so, so difficult to build.

Ziva's eyes closed against the pain she didn't want to reveal. If he'd have been looking at her, he would have seen there was resignation in her expression, as well – and no surprise.

After all, hadn't she told herself he was not likely to feel the same? Why would he?

And yet, she hadn't been able to completely snuff out that spark of hope that he might, a tiny glowing ember that had been born of their time together in this basement and beyond, wishful thinking that had been buried deeply inside her for nearly as long as she'd known him …

But she hadn't really expected him to want her.

And, she ruthlessly reminded herself, he deserved more than a bruised and battered old soul trapped in a younger body that had been scarred inside and out by living through more of the ugliness in the world than most would see in five lifetimes.

Still, her heart had whispered that maybe, just maybe, all they'd both been through made them perfect for each other not only as coworkers and friends, but as more.

He clearly did not agree.

Leaning on the strength and discipline that had been forged in trials by fire, Ziva forced herself to do as he suggested.

She paused at the foot of his steps, one hand on the rail, looking down.

Driven by the unshakable sense that she may never see him again, she wanted him to know that she has never known a better man … that she loves him … that it seems like she always has.

"I …"

She hesitated, gripped by uncertainty.

"I just wanted …"

Finally, she simply settled for four little words of her own, spoken so quietly he almost couldn't hear them.

"You are loved. Always."

And her heart broke a little further when he remained mute and rooted to the floor, though she didn't give him much time to respond.

Couldn't.

"Goodbye, Gibbs," she whispered haltingly, the soldier in her fiercely pleased that she managed to swallow enough of her emotional response that her voice didn't crack.

Then she left, slipping into the dark night as silently as she'd arrived.

And disappeared into the ether.


	2. Pushing Forward, Going Back

The team started coming back together, unofficially and then officially, but Ziva was nowhere to be found. Tied up in knots over what he'd said and _hadn't _said and over what she'd all but admitted, Gibbs shoved aside the urgency clawing inside him to find her himself and tasked DiNozzo with tracking her down.

Her partner finally located her in the land in which she'd been born, returning to her roots, he guessed. Armed with the knowledge that they were now dealing with a whole new level of bad guy – and that Ziva was their next target – Tony flew to Tel Aviv.

He and McGee had their badges back, and Tony took Ziva's with him.

After a couple of harrowing days during which he wasn't sure if she was alive or dead, he found her, thanking God and anyone else out there who would listen that she was still among the living.

His first order of business after making sure she was all right was to pull out her badge and hand it back to her.

She did not accept it from him.

Didn't see how she could.

It was slowly killing her to be away from them, from _him, _but she feared it would be a different kind of slow death to sit beside Gibbs every day knowing that she'd tried to hand him her heart and he hadn't wanted it.

Besides, if there were insurgents to track down, she could do that alone or through Mossad and other contacts – and on her own terms of what constituted justice. The kind she used to wear like a second skin. The world, her family an ocean away, would be safer if she could wipe this new kind of terrorist cell off the planet, and that's what she would do.

However, Tony was having none of that. He wanted her to come home so they could all fight this threat together like the team they were.

"I am home, Tony," she tried, but her voice didn't sound convincing, even to her own ears.

"No, you're not," he returned almost fiercely, concerned about how alone and pensive she sounded. "_We're _your family and we all need you back."

"Not everyone," she countered quietly, turning away.

He could tell by her voice that she meant someone in particular.

And from the way Gibbs had been acting since she left, he figured he knew who.

"What happened between you two, Ziva?" her partner asked her softly, the only other person on the planet who knew of her feelings for their boss.

She stiffened.

"I do not know who you are talking about," she side-stepped.

"Yes, you do," he argued, "but I'll say it out loud since it seems like you can't: Gibbs. What happened between you and Gibbs?"

"Nothing," she tried, her voice hollow.

That was pretty much the truth.

She had given him her secret.

And he hadn't wanted it.

Nothing had happened.

That was the problem.

Tony sighed inside. Those two were so meant for each other. Everyone could see it but them.

Although, apparently, it was now just Gibbs who refused to see it.

"You told him, didn't you?" he asked, compassion in his voice.

If anything, her body went even more rigid.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she retorted and started walking away.

Damn Tony for pushing her on this.

"You told him you're in love with him and he went all functional mute on you. Right?" He stayed still, but his voice followed her.

She froze.

"He loves you, too, Ziva."

A mirthless laugh that made Tony's heart hurt even more for her left her throat.

"No, he does not," she said, the finality in her tone impossible to miss.

"Then why is he not like himself anymore? Huh? Going off all half-cocked to Iran one minute, returning with Parsons as his new BFF the next – which is just _weird_ - and walking around like a wooden soldier the rest of the time?" He paused for effect, then added quietly, "A wounded wooden soldier."

Cautiously, Ziva turned her head to look at her friend.

"And he's been like that ever since you disappeared," he finished.

When the job had sent the two of them to Paris, Tony and Ziva had had a lot of alone time. Some of it had been spent talking about things he usually deflected and she flat-out refused to discuss. One thing had led to another during one particular middle-of-the-night-but-couldn't-sleep conversation, and Tony's suspicions that Ziva cared differently, more deeply, for Gibbs than she did for any of the others in their unconventional family had been confirmed.

Whether she had been too jet-lagged to keep her usual shields in place or had just been tired of feeling alone in the love she'd felt for Leroy Jethro Gibbs for longer than she'd ever care to admit, Ziva had admitted that he was right – then had promptly sworn him to secrecy with the threat of death by paperclip if he said anything to anyone.

He hadn't, but on and off since then, when they were by themselves and he felt the time was right, Tony had pushed her to tell Gibbs, certain she was not alone in those feelings.

Like he was pushing her right now.

Her hope flickered a little once more as she considered what Tony had said.

Could he be right?

Then her mind took her back to her last visit to Gibbs' basement.

No. He couldn't be.

Or wouldn't that scene have played out differently?

She squashed the hope as quickly as it had brightened, as there was no room for unrealistic dreams in her world. There never really had been.

"I do not know why he is acting that way, Tony," she said dejectedly, "but it is not because of me. Yes, I finally took your advice and told him I love him … and he told me I should go."

Her stomach clenched as she remembered and she fought against the tears she'd been so sure she'd already cried all out of herself.

"You told him straight out and he said that?" Tony asked suspiciously, knowing his partner well.

"Ye-"

Ziva stopped mid-word.

Not exactly straight out, she was forced to admit to herself.

But, she rallied, only an idiot would not have understood what she meant and Jethro Gibbs was no one's fool.

In her own pain, Ziva just couldn't see that Gibbs might have had other reasons for ignoring the huge gorilla in the room – reasons that were perhaps similar to those that had kept her from revealing out loud that he was loved by _her_.

"I am sure he knew what I meant, Tony, and all he said was that I should go." She paused for a moment and turned her head to look off into the distance again. "So I did."

Tony let out an audible sigh this time and shook his head. If Gibbs had been standing there just then, DiNozzo would have turned the tables and head-slapped _him_. And if Ziva hadn't been in front of him looking so hurt and lost, he might have given her the same treatment.

"Don't think he meant 'go to Israel,' Zee-vah," Tony told her, though not unkindly. He waited for a moment in a silence that was heavy with meaning. "And I think he's just scared."

"Gibbs is not afraid of anything," Ziva disagreed.

"Oh, yes he is, and you know it," Tony countered. "He's afraid of losing the people he loves." He let that sink in for a minute. "Even more afraid of not being there when they need him most."

He let her consider that, too, for a second.

"So he tries to go it alone." He looked at his partner knowingly. She could all but feel his green eyes boring into her. "Like someone else I know."

"Tony –" Ziva began, turning to face him again at last, surprised to find he'd silently stepped closer.

"But why should you both be alone and hurting, when you can be together?" He pulled her badge from his pocket and held it up. "Without this, you can't even hide behind rule number twelve - and neither can he."

"He does not want to be with me like that, Tony," Ziva husked in denial, closing her eyes to hide the pain deepened by saying that out loud.

"I think you're wrong," he told her firmly. "I think he just panicked and shut down, and I think one of you needs to be strong enough to try again. And, Ziva, it might not be fair, but I think that's gonna have to be you."

"I do not know if I can," she whispered.

Intentionally leave herself completely vulnerable in front of him again?

No, she did not think she could do that.

Just then, Tony's phone buzzed with a text from McGee.

_Gibbs wants to know if you found her, if she's all right._

Tony cocked an eyebrow and wordlessly held his phone up for her to see.

She couldn't help it – her heart tripped, then began pounding.

Again, that hope that had been stuffed and trampled on and yet still not completely extinguished whispered _Could Tony be right?_

"He cares about me as part of, of this family we have all become," she said haltingly, almost desperately. "It is simply that."

"It's more than that, Ziva. Trust me." He snorted. "Anyone who's suddenly decided Parsons is a guy who can be trusted's got his head up his -" Tony stopped and rephrased that. "Has his head tangled up somewhere else." As serious as she'd ever seen him, he added, "And I'd bet money he's tangled up over you."

Knowing her well enough to know when to stop pushing, Tony backed off.

For now.

Over the next several days, they worked together like the partners they'd become to track down those who wanted to kill Ziva badly enough to have followed her to Israel. With the aid of her connections and because no one was better at this than those trained by Jethro Gibbs, that threat was successfully neutralized.

There would be more work to do in the States to eradicate this group of businessmen and terrorists working in tandem, but Ziva and the rest of them were safe for now.

When it was time for Tony to leave, he put on his big boy boxers - and shot a silent prayer toward the heavens that he wasn't about to commit unintentional suicide - and informed Ziva she could come willingly or he'd tie her up and put her on the plane himself.

She just looked at him with arms crossed and an arrogant eyebrow cocked that said _You and what army?_

"Okay, so you can take me. But," he emphasized with a finger in the air, "then you'll feel so badly about kicking my ass when I try it that you'll feel compelled to go with me to make sure I don't die somewhere over the Atlantic from my injuries," he predicted with a little false bravado thrown in for good measure. "So, let's just skip the part where you hurt me and get on the damn plane, Ziva."

She just snorted and shook her head at him ...

But felt her resolve weakening.

And so it was that when Tony climbed into the C-130 for the flight back home, Ziva did indeed go with him … her heart full of misgivings and worry …

And a tiny flicker of hope.


	3. Worrying & Waiting

_A/N: Okay, so a funny thing happened on the way to posting chapter 3 of this._

_It grew.  
_

_Um, a lot.  
_

_As in, it became nearly as long as the entire story was originally drafted (and, I swear, thought to be finished except for the final tweaking!). *insert face-palm emoticon here*_

_Sigh._

_So, while God knows you've hung in there with me through really long chapters before, over 7,000 words felt a bit excessive, even for me. :) Plus, as I mentioned before, this one is an emotional piece and I don't want that to get lost in sheer volume._

_Therefore, what was to have been a one-shot that became a three-shot is now going to be a five-shot. _

_I'm sorry my daily posting intention didn't pan out. RL, fighting a cold and a story that refused to feel completed until now conspired to nix that plan. I probably shouldn't tempt the universe into messing with me on this, but the revised plan is to have all the rest up by sometime Sunday morning my time. Sooner, if I can pull it off._

_Oh, and the rating will bump up to M with the next chapter and we'll really need that rating by the last one. ;)_

_In case you're interested, I still have not watched anything beyond the premiere of Season 11. I'm holding out until I get all of this up ... and maybe beyond that. I'll probably get around to watching it, but NCIS without Ziva is just not that appealing to me._

_I'm still responding to reviews and I will get to you all individually. In the meantime, here's a special shout-out to all of you who have put this in your favorites and on alert. xoxoxo Thanks to all of you reading this for joining me on my latest journey with Ziva and Gibbs. =)_

* * *

_About twelve hours later …_

DiNozzo had left his car parked at the naval airstrip and insisted on giving Ziva a ride when they landed back in D.C. She spent most of the drive with her head back against the seat and her eyes closed, only opening them when she sensed that the car was not headed to the apartment she hadn't given up yet.

She started to object when she realized they were driving straight to their team leader's house, but Tony just cut her off.

"I know you. Nothing good will come of you putting this off – you'll probably even convince yourself it's a mistake and disappear on us again."

She didn't even try to dispute that possibility.

After all, he wasn't wrong.

In fact, she still had not accepted her badge back in order to leave that option completely open.

Well, that and maybe something to do with a certain Rule 12.

Tony pulled up in front of Gibbs' house and parked. He looked at his passenger who was staring out her side window as though her life depended on what she saw.

In some ways, it felt as though it did.

"But I need a shower, some sleep, some time to …" Her protests trailed off.

Time to what, exactly?

"Look, his truck's not here and McGee said he was still at the Navy Yard when I sent him a text to let him know we landed."

Her head whipped around to him.

"Does Gibbs know I am back?" she asked tightly.

"He knows," he admitted, unwilling to lie to her. "But he doesn't know anything else, not even where you are right now. Go inside, grab a shower, change into the clothes I know you have in that overnight bag and drink his bourbon while you wait for him."

His tone was supportive, but he was clearly unwilling to aid and abet her in climbing down off this particular hook.

"Tony –"

"Ziva. Do you really want to live your life wondering if this one step is all it would have taken to get what you want?"

"I am scared, Tony," Ziva whispered. Her voice strengthened to a murmur. "And I am not convinced you are right about … the way Gibbs feels about me."

"Look, if I'm wrong, I'll put you on the first plane back to Israel or wherever you want to go, all right?" He laid a comforting hand on the back of hers and squeezed. "After I kick his ass for being an idiot."

Despite everything, her lips twitched a little at that mental image.

Finally, Ziva turned to Tony with a slightly worried, but affectionate smile.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being my friend." She squeezed his hand back, then narrowed her eyes at him in that way of hers. "Even if you are seriously pushing the bounds of our friendship here."

"You'd do the same for me, sweetcheeks," he grinned at her as only Tony DiNozzo could do.

She actually chuckled at that.

Then, after giving him a quick, unexpected hug which he returned, she opened her door and made to get out. She stopped in mid-movement with her face turned away from him to ask falteringly, "What if I need to leave? I do not have my car."

And that suddenly left her feeling even more vulnerable.

"Start walking and call me. I'll pick you up," he said immediately. "But I don't think I'm gonna need to."

Tony's gut started poking at him and he gave her the eye.

"Hey, look at me."

He waited until she'd done as he'd directed.

"Can I trust you not to take off before he gets home or do I need to sit here?"

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. Tony in his protective, gladiator role was formidable.

And endearing.

"I will stay."

"Promise?" he persisted with his head tilted and eyes squinted just slightly as he did when he was suspicious and in pursuit of an answer.

"I promise," she returned quietly. A shadow moved through her eyes and her voice grew pensive. "After all, I have come this far …"

She released a sigh and looked longingly back toward the darkened house.

With one last deep breath, she left the vehicle and stepped out into the early evening light.

Ziva slowly entered Gibbs' house, closing the door quietly behind her. The silence was the deafening kind that told her no one else was here. She paused just to close her eyes and inhale deeply for a minute, breathing in the essence of him that permeated his home.

Because she was tired and gritty, she decided to act on Tony's advice and take a quick shower. She went upstairs to use the bathroom that was not connected to Gibbs' bedroom.

Although, she couldn't stop herself from lingering for a moment at the doorway to his room, allowing herself a little wishful thinking … just a little.

Despite her nerves about being caught unawares and vulnerable if he came home to unexpectedly find her naked and in his shower, she stood there until the water ran cold, trying unsuccessfully to quiet her mind.

She had a carry-on bag with her that held her toiletries and a few items of clothing. After washing her hair and her body, she stepped out to dry off and dressed in comfortable black pants and a soft, lightly-fitted white shirt that buttoned up the front.

To give herself a little boost of confidence because it felt slightly daring and sexy, she left it unbuttoned just enough that the valley between her breasts peeked out.

She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when she discovered Gibbs wasn't home yet when she made her way downstairs in the silent-as-a-tomb house. She got a glass of water from the kitchen and impulsively grabbed an extra glass for bourbon. She told herself she should probably eat something, but her stomach was tied in too many knots for that.

He probably didn't have much food on hand, anyway.

In the basement, she put her bag on the floor out of the way. She'd carried it down with her, wanting it nearby in case she needed to make a quick exit. Twilight was falling, so she turned on a low light over his work bench, poured herself just a splash of bourbon and drank it in one shot. The fiery burn down her throat was a welcome distraction from her trepidation and the thoughts churning in her mind that started with _What if … ?_ and ended with _Why on earth did I allow Tony to talk me into this?_

Ziva was exhausted from the trip, from the nearly frantic pace of her time in Israel, from the emotional rollercoaster she'd been riding for days, and from the poor sleep she'd had for too many nights to count. When Gibbs still hadn't come home after a while, she took the blankets they'd both come to think of as hers from the closet in the basement and made herself a bed under the makeshift table on which he was working on his latest project, the same one that had been there the last night she'd been here.

It made her feel more protected to be underneath the wood, and it reminded her of lying under the skeleton of the boat he'd left unfinished when he'd hightailed it abruptly to Mexico, that time she'd waited for him to come back to save her.

And he had.

Thinking back to that time, hugging that warmth to her heart, Ziva allowed herself to slip into sleep.


	4. Feeling

Jethro Gibbs strode through his front door, threw his keys at the side table like always, flicked on a light as it had gone full dark outside and glanced at the mail he'd grabbed on his way in. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, sensing a presence in his quiet house.

Pulling his weapon, he cleared the downstairs, then descended silently to his basement, inextricably drawn in that direction. At first he saw no one, but he did pick up faint, shallow breathing.

Ziva had heard him moving around upstairs and knew without looking that he had his gun out and aimed as he searched his house.

After all, she'd have done the same.

She stayed still, faking continued sleep in order to give him time to see that she was the intruder he was looking for and to give herself time for one last grip on her courage.

He actually caught a whiff of that smell that was uniquely her first, the combination of her shampoo and whatever she used on her skin that was always an intoxicating mix of fresh and alluring, but discounted that as wishful thinking.

Then he saw her.

Raising her eyelids just enough to see his legs through her lashes, she watched him freeze and his Sig slowly lower to his side.

"_Ziver." _

At the sound of her nickname – that one that only he used - she slowly opened her eyes completely.

"Hello, Gibbs."

It did not escape her that their conversation was beginning exactly the same way it had days before.

She hoped that was not an omen that the rest would play out the same way, as well.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, his tone almost clipped from the shock of finding her there.

When he'd learned from McGee that she was – _thank God_ - flying back with Tony, he'd figured the best he could hope for was that she would go back to being at the desk next to him and that she'd never darken his sanctuary again after the way he'd acted the last time she'd been here.

Or, rather, _hadn't_ acted.

He'd been too locked in his ways – and his apprehension – to meet her halfway that night, and had stubbornly allowed himself to cling to the notion that if he ignored it, everything would go back to being the way it was once he got the team together again.

Then she'd disappeared and he was forced to examine everything more closely, to decide what he really wanted.

He wanted her, but didn't know what to do about it. He couldn't run from the fact that he'd become impossible to be in a relationship with – he had three ex-wives and a few ex-lovers who'd convinced him of that. It hadn't been hard for them to. He knew he was a different man than the one who'd fallen for Shannon and then for Jenny because losing them had changed him, in different ways, but both significantly.

When Ziva had fallen off the face of the earth right after he'd suggested she go – though he'd really only meant out of his basement that night until he could be sure he wouldn't allow himself to grab the chance she seemed to be offering him - he could only believe that he'd ruined any chance of her being near him again at all, especially just the two of them here, in his basement.

He'd sent Tony after her as he'd figured he was the last person she'd want to see – and because he still didn't really know what to say.

Ziva's heart sank at the tone of his question. Since _Tony made me _sounded childish and wasn't really true, and because she wasn't ready to jump right in with the real answer_, _she busied herself with coming out of her cocoon rather than respond immediately.

Moving slowly, she lightly stretched limbs that had gone stiff while sleeping on the concrete floor and then slid out from under his project to rise gracefully to her feet. She had the urge to put his work area between them, so she forced herself to do the opposite and stand on the same side he was, reflexively refusing to give in to the fear.

Not of him.

She could never be afraid of him.

But the strength of her feelings for him? Oh, yes, that scared her.

That and the fact that it seemed he was about to break her heart again as no one else could, no matter what Tony said.

Ziva opened her mouth to answer him, then closed it again without a sound, unsure of what to say, where to start.

Finally, she settled for, "Tony dropped me off."

He looked at her, showing none of his surprise and confusion and longing. Inside, he was fighting to find his emotional footing at this unexpected turn of events, but she couldn't tell because she was too consumed with the same.

Because ingrained habits are not easy to overcome even when you want to, Gibbs stayed protected behind his emotional fortress.

"Explains how you got here," he pointed out with a slight emphasis on the _how_, "but not why you're here."

He seemed so remote … why had she allowed herself to believe for even one second that he'd be anything less?

She closed her eyes and released a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself enough to do what she must.

"Apparently making the same mistake twice," she offered sadly, wearily. "I will just get out of your way."

She started to move toward her bag, praying she could slip by him on her way to the stairs without touching him.

"Leaving again, huh? That your new MO?"

There was something in his voice that made her still, a razor-sharp edge of hurt cutting through all the rest.

Had leaving become her new way of operating, she wondered? Given that she was about to do just that again, she guessed she didn't really know the answer, so she said nothing.

Caught between his maelstrom of emotions and the urge to hold her tight, Gibbs flicked the safety on his weapon, laid it out of the way and opted for the one feeling that always felt safer than many others: fury.

"What the hell were you thinking," he bit out, "disappearing like that? Rule 3, Ziva. 'Never –'"

"'Be unreachable,'" she finished softly. In the face of his outright anger, she found her backbone. "So the rules still apply, even when you tell me to go? Even when I no longer work for you?"

Given what she'd all but admitted to him the last time they'd seen each other,_ Including Rule 12? _practically reverberated in the air between them, but went unacknowledged.

"DiNozzo took you your badge," he retorted, his heart pounding against his chest to stop yelling at her and just kiss her before he ruined everything again.

"Which I have not taken back," she informed him curtly, feeling a stab of satisfaction that she'd managed to shock him with that, if the look on his face was any indication.

"But since you are so concerned about your rules, what about Rule 11: 'When the job is done, walk away?'" she went on with an almost cocky poise she did not actually feel, but desperate to do something that would hopefully keep her heart from bleeding out all over his floor.

Being snarky helped staunch the flow.

"So that's all we are - _I_ am - to you, a job?" he nearly yelled, his words smarting like a whip.

Because she knew him well, the pain she sensed under his accusation slid under her guard and put another chink in her armor … and took the snark out of her sails.

"You have never been a 'job' to me," she swore quietly, a wealth of meaning in her tone. "You have always been more."

Putting some steel in that backbone, she allowed her guarded gaze to meet his stormy blue one.

This time she would say what she came to say, the consequences be damned. It couldn't be any worse than last time and at least she wouldn't be left wondering _What if?_

"You have always been everything."

"But you left!" He banged the work table in his pain and frustration, hit it hard enough to make his hand throb. He rounded on her again, emotion blazing in his mesmerizing blue eyes – accusation and self-recrimination being only part of the mix. "You left the team." Then, almost as if the weight of what came next was more than he could bear, he paced to the work bench against the wall and braced his hands against it. "Left me."

Ziva felt suddenly thrown off balance. His anger was one thing, but now it was clear that he was hurting, too, and she loved him too much not to be drawn to ease his pain, even in the face of his fury and even though she wasn't convinced she could.

Consigning herself to very likely bleeding out after all, she slowly approached him from behind, stopping near enough to feel the heat emanating from his body. She raised a hand to lay it on his back, but dropped it before touching him as though afraid of what might be unleashed within her – within them both - if she did.

"I thought that was what you wanted. You told me to go."

Her words were offered quietly in a voice that got smaller as she reminded him of his directive.

"Not to Israel," he returned bleakly.

"I believed there was nothing to hold me here any longer," she admitted, still in that low, quiet voice.

"What about me?" he asked in a voice she had to strain to hear.

"Gibbs?" she whispered in confusion, that tiny spark of hope igniting into a tiny, but sturdy flame with those three words.

"Wanted to hold you," he admitted in a husky voice, extending one hand outside his fortress. "Thought I had to let you go."

"Why?" she breathed achingly.

Part of him wanted to find the words for her, he really did, but damned if he could. However, the slight shrug that held more than a little uncertainty, that telegraphed he was lost here, spoke volumes and cracked the rest of her armor completely in half.

Risking what felt like everything, she allowed it to fall away.

She slowly rested her hand against his back, not moving quickly, intuitively understanding that he was riding a very fine edge of control that could slip at any moment.

"Ziva," he warned thickly.

She ignored the urge for caution in his voice and slowly allowed her hand to slide up and down his back over his jacket as she'd dreamed of doing too many times to count.

Her palm absorbed the incredible feel of him and her fingertips flexed into his muscles. His body pressed back into her hand, unable to stop from doing so. The pressure was subtle, but she sensed it.

Welcomed it.

"I wanted you to hold me," she revealed in a voice breaking with emotion. "I still do."

He went completely still under her hand, not even breathing, as though he were afraid even that slight movement would break whatever spell they were under.

Could it really be true that he hadn't blown whatever snowball's chance in hell he had at being with her?

"I want to hold you, too," she shared emotionally, a weight lifting off her heart as she said that out loud at last, despite not knowing how this was going to end.

After a moment, she braved sliding her arms around him completely, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder blade, closing her eyes as a tidal wave of relief and pleasure rolled through her at finally having him in her arms for more than a friendly or familial-like embrace.

She soaked in every nuance of it, in case this was the only memory of really holding him she would ever have.

For the space of a few heartbeats, he still couldn't move, afraid that if he did she would let go.

He wanted her to hold on.

Needed her to.

Pushed himself to take a step beyond his knee-jerk reaction to stay behind his walls and acknowledged that he needed to do the same.

Moving cautiously, he chanced turning within the circle of her arms, beyond grateful that she didn't let her arms fall away.

Raising his hands, fingers uncharacteristically trembling, he cupped her face and traced her beautiful features with his gaze. A small, nervous smile flirted with her lips and her body softened instinctively against his.

"Ziva_, _I -" he breathed before every coherent thought left his head.

"Yes, Jethro?" she whispered when he didn't continue, her eyes on his mouth as it drew inexorably closer to hers.

She'd used his first name before, but this time it sent shivers down his spine and lower. His eyes darkened with the need to kiss her.

There was something he'd intended to say, but words failed him.

Gibbs shook his head at himself as he floundered.

"Can't think when you're this close to me," he finally confessed in husky voice.

Feminine strength as old as time curled through her, warming her from the inside out.

"Then do not try," she suggested in a sultry tone. Smoothing her hands over his back and bringing her face close enough that her breath feathered his lips as she spoke, she delivered a command with a voice that was both velvet and steel as it slid over him, into him. "Just … feel."

Knowing they sometimes communicated even better without talking, Ziva slowly tilted her face toward his, offering him her mouth.

Carefully, as though she were something delicate and precious to him, he took it.

Their first kiss started out soft as a butterfly's wing, brushing lightly, gently … gradually firming until their lips were slanting across each other's, sliding in between, reveling in the moist velvety touch.

Parting slowly, lips clinging, they looked at each other once more for what felt like a lifetime ...

But was really only the time it took for the last few planks of a bridge to fall into place.

Something inside him mended and he started to feel like himself again – a more complete version of the self he'd been.

"Maybe feeling's not so bad," he husked revealingly, his blue eyes warming with wonder as they roamed over her face. "With you."

Her slow, sparkling, loving, _relieved_ smile melted the last of his tension. Then her eyes took on a decidedly provocative glint.

"'Not so bad' - ?" she all but purred. "Oh, I think we can do better than that."

His characteristic grin tugged up one corner of his mouth and he relaxed into her as she slid one hand around from his back, up his chest to the nape of his neck and pulled his mouth to hers once more.

And rocked him to his toes with her kiss.

She was oh-so-slow about releasing his lips, capturing them once, twice more before removing her tongue from his mouth with one last swirl that went straight to his groin, giving them both a chance to take in some much-needed air.

"Well?" she husked, lifting her eyelids just enough to see him through her lashes.

"If I pretend I'm not sure, will you do it again?" he wondered in a sexy murmur with a devilish glint in his eye, quite proud of himself that he'd managed a full sentence even though his head was still spinning.

Her delighted light laugh danced between them causing him to grin like a fool, so grateful she was back and determined to hold on to her this time.

"I will kiss you as often as you like, even without the pretending," she pledged warmly, provocatively. "It has instantly become my new favorite thing."

"Huh. Mine, too," he observed, the roguish twinkle in his blue eyes further charming her.

After a few more kisses that gradually deepened, he took her hand and they moved her blankets to her usual spot by the wall. He sat first and tugged her down to sit beside him. They curled into each other as though they were two halves of a whole.

It was time for words, even if they came hesitantly or in fits and starts.

And time for breaking a few rules.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking down at her. "About before."

"Jethro –"

"No, Ziva," he interrupted her. It was his turn to kick a hole in his walls. She'd done more than her part to weaken them. "I'm sorry."

He smoothed a hand down her hair, glad she'd left it loose.

"I did not say everything I came to say that night," Ziva admitted, trying to shoulder some of the blame. "Perhaps if I had –"

"Didn't give you the chance," he pointed out, cutting her off. What had happened that night was on him. "I was a coward. And a liar."

She looked up at him with her eyes lowered a bit in confusion.

"Didn't want you to go even when I said you should," he explained quietly.

He raised a hand and cupped her chin, smoothing a thumb over her soft lips as he tipped her face up to his.

"You were strong," he admired her. "Brave."

A shadow crossed his eyes as he remembered his response when she'd tried to shift their relationship into something more.

"I was –"

"Worried," she broke in softly, raising her own hand to sift her fingers soothingly through his hair, thrilled that she could. "And careful."

"Like I said, coward," he agreed with her, refusing to let her sugar-coat it. "Froze up on ya … and wished I hadn't as soon as you left, but didn't know what to do about it."

He paused a moment to just look at her.

"And almost did the same thing tonight," he pointed out ruthlessly refusing to let himself off the hook yet. Regret dimmed the blue eyes she adored. "'m sorry about that, too."

Her gaze searched his for a long moment, reassured even more by what she found there.

"Well," she observed in a sexy drawl, melting into him and smoothing her hand down over his cheek, his throat, his chest. "You do not feel frozen now."

Desire pulled at him and he allowed her to bring him to the here and now, rather than stay focused on what he should have done before.

He kissed her again because he just couldn't help himself and she was right: nothing frozen about that.

At all.

Slowly, but surely, they continued to talk through the night, their halting, revealing exchange often interrupted for kisses and touches that were heartfelt and deeply meaningful.

Gradually, they shared everything that needed to be said, including the worry she'd had about revealing her feelings, but she hadn't been able to keep holding back as soon as they were living in a world without Rule 12 …

His concern that he was too old, too set in his ways of going it alone to be what she needed and deserved, which had driven his response …

The pain and regret he'd lived with over sending her away that night, especially when he couldn't find her …

The sadness she felt at the hurt she'd caused them both by leaving, though she'd only been doing what she thought he'd wanted.

They talked about the past.

The present.

The future.

_Their _future.

For now, Ziva decided she would not return to the team. Gibbs had misgivings about that, not the least of which was that he'd miss her at work - not just for her skills, though that was a factor.

She was a damn good agent.

However, Ziva did not want Rule 12 getting in the way of figuring this out, especially while the admission of their feelings was so new and vulnerable. He'd lived a long time with that rule – and for good reason in his book – and she didn't kid herself that it would just _poof _and be gone.

He'd need time.

Maybe they both would.

Besides, she trusted no one to watch his back overtly or covertly the way she could, and she announced in no uncertain terms that she would be doing just that during whatever mission had been planned for him, after which his slate would be wiped clean of real or imagined bending-of-the-law-when-it-suited-him, as Parsons had wanted to charge him with.

He'd already been set up once and nearly shot in Iran, and the "mission" hadn't even officially begun as far as anyone knew. Somehow Parsons had saved the day, but she wasn't about to rely on that weasel who'd done everything in his power to get to Gibbs and put him in jail.

At first, Jethro objected to that part of her plan for more reasons than one, not the least of which was keeping her safe and far away from whatever cluster-fuck the alphabet soup of agencies was sure to cook up for him.

However, after pointing out that she was in the best position of anyone to have his back and to collect corroborating or contradictory intel that might be useful along the way - and then distracting him with a slow, warm, deep kiss that trumped his ability to remember why he thought she should just come back to work as one of his agents - he began to cave.

"Need you safe," he managed, burying his face against her throat when she allowed him up for air. "And need you with me. Not sure those things go together in this."

"I need you safe and with me, as well," she husked, holding him to her with as much soothing affection as love. "And I know that 'together' is the best way to accomplish that."

Ziva shifted to straddle his lap and took his face in her hands.

"After your mission, we can talk about work again. But, Jethro, no matter what we decide about that, for as long as you want me, I will be wherever you are even if I am not at the desk next to yours."

"No more disappearing?" he asked quietly, not hiding his vulnerability as he waited for her answer.

"No more disappearing," she promised with a smile that melted his heart as she ran her fingertips over his cheek and into that sexy silver hair of his.

"Even when I say something I don't mean?" he made himself ask, certain that he would.

"Even then, though you might have to help me figure out that you do not mean it, at least at first … until I can really trust that you do not want me to go," she answered honestly.

"Always gonna want you with me, Ziver," he swore, not a shred of doubt in his eyes.

The happiness that lit up her expression sparked his own.

"Then you will always have me," she vowed before capturing his mouth again in a kiss that turned his brain to mush and reduced his world to simply the woman in his arms.

"Glad you came back," he sighed when he could speak again.

"So am I – now," she smiled, rubbing her nose against his adorably before adding truthfully, but not unkindly, "At first, it was a little …"

She tilted her head, searching for the right phrase.

"Something about going and touching," she mused out loud, looking to him for the answer.

"Touch and go," he supplied with a slight smile.

"That is it," she nodded. "It was a little 'touch and go' at first."

But she smiled at him with understanding in her eyes as she rubbed his cheek with the backs of her fingers.

"That's on me, too," he frowned. "I'm –"

"I know," she interrupted him warmly. "You do not have to keep saying it."

"Not weakness to apologize when I'm wrong, Ziver," he told her quietly, his eyes on her. "Not telling you how I feel, that is."

"About that …" Her voice trailed off.

There were still so many questions, but perhaps only one answer really mattered.

Hiding nothing of what she felt, Ziva rose up on her knees and held his face with open hands on either side of it.

"Jethro, do you think someday you could love me?" she asked wistfully in a voice gone husky with emotion. "Not just care about me, but really love me?"

"Ziva, I already love you like that," he husked, feeling like he'd just jumped into fast, deep rapids without a raft, but knowing she'd put herself out there not once, but twice for him already and it was his turn to take a risk.

She had to close her eyes for a moment to catch her equilibrium as he told her what she'd longed to hear and had been so certain she never would, not from this man.

Her eyes opened again and she had all she wanted right in front of her.

"Then, somehow, everything will be all right," she predicted in a clear, but emotional voice that had no room for doubt, caressing his face with her hands, thrilled to be able to say at last what she'd thought he would never want to hear, not from her. "Because I love you, too."

He gazed into her eyes in the dim light and saw nothing but truth there, along with a bright, tantalizing vision of his future.

And he discovered he didn't need a raft in these previously-treacherous emotional waters because he had her to hold onto.

To steady him.

To save him.

Even from himself.


	5. Holding On

"_Then, somehow, everything will be all right … because I love you, too."_

Happiness combined with gratitude and relief to fill Jethro near to bursting. He took her mouth in a kiss that rocked her world and nearly swallowed her whole, attempting to wordlessly further communicate his feelings.

Ziva wrapped herself around him and kissed him back unreservedly with everything she had to offer, her heart whole at last.

As they gradually began to come up for air, a question that had hovered just under his radar floated to the surface.

"Ziver?" he murmured against her lips.

"Mmmm?" She responded distractedly as her mouth slid from his to skim a line of kisses over his cheek, along his jaw, down his neck, where she lingered to taste and nibble at his skin.

"What made you give me a second chance?" he wondered quietly, tilting his head a little to give her better access and holding her to him as though to reassure himself that she wasn't going anywhere. "I sure didn't give you any reason to."

With a last kiss to his throat that promised her return to that very spot, Ziva lifted her head and answered truthfully.

"Tony," she admitted.

His eyes flew to hers in surprise.

She smiled at his reaction.

"It is true," she said. Then she gave him a knowing look tinged with humor. "And you do realize he is never going to let us live that down, yes?"

He considered that for a heartbeat.

"Given the outcome, I can live with that," he determined, his charming half-smile pulling at his mouth.

She chuckled and hugged him.

"So can I," she whispered, releasing a happy sigh as he hugged her back tightly.

"Will you tell me?" he asked quietly, his cheek resting on her shoulder and his forehead pressed against the side of her neck.

"What happened with Tony?"

He tilted his head back to look at her and nodded.

"From the way that I – and apparently you – were acting, he guessed that I had tried to talk to you about my feelings and that it had not gone well," she shared softly. "Then, he convinced me that I should try again."

"He knew?" he asked in disbelief. "How you felt?"

"He has known since Paris," she revealed softly, her gaze slipping away from his for a moment, feeling inexplicably vulnerable.

And the shocks just kept coming.

"Paris?"

She nodded, her gaze coming back to his, her look somewhat guarded.

To say he was stunned would be an understatement, not only by DiNozzo knowing about her feelings and being instrumental in putting Ziva in his arms where she belonged, but also by just how long she'd known she loved him.

"That was a long time ago," he observed, searching her eyes.

She simply nodded slightly once more, fighting the urge to duck away from his all-seeing eyes again.

He cupped her jaw in his hand, tunneling his long fingers into her hair. He just looked at her for a moment, so moved that he couldn't speak. He pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth before tipping her forehead against his and returning to their conversation.

"But why …" He paused for a moment, his brow furrowed as he turned something over in his mind. He leaned his head back until he could see into her eyes again. "Him knowing how you felt explains one side of things, but not all of it."

DiNozzo's first instinct would have been to protect his partner, not send her back to be hurt again.

"Did you tell him …?"

"What happened before?" she finished for him softly when he didn't go on.

He nodded silently, then she did the same.

Gibbs closed his eyes for a second, regretting it all over again.

Reading him like a book, Ziva brushed her lips over his on the way to commanding faintly in his ear, "Stop."

He opened his eyes to find a small, understanding smile on her gorgeous face. She'd obviously already forgiven him for that, which was way more than he deserved.

Gibbs rested his forehead against her chin briefly, leaning on her strength. Then, his thoughts came back around to Tony's part in this.

He leaned back to search her beautiful brown eyes once more.

"Why would he bring you back here instead of giving me the ass-kicking I'd earned?" he asked, still certain he was missing something.

"Actually, that did come up," Ziva shared with a gleam in her eye and a grin flirting about her mouth.

He snorted, which made her chuckle.

"But do not worry," she comforted him, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. "I will protect you."

Jethro squeezed her with both arms, his heart shifting from light-hearted to something more at her words.

"Yeah, you keep doing that," he acknowledged on a thankful sigh.

Ziva looked at him, cupping his cheek in her hand.

"And I always will," she vowed, her heart in her eyes. "As often as I can and in every way possible."

He buried his fingers in her hair and pulled her mouth to his as he wordlessly expressed his gratitude and promised her the same.

After, she laid her head on his shoulder, her nose tucked into his throat, breathing him in and already feeling more content and complete than she'd dreamed she ever would.

He leaned his cheek against her hair, still thinking.

"Tony wouldn't have sent you back here alone …" Gibbs mused out loud, stopping as he had a moment of clarity.

He gazed down at her until she answered the silent summons to lift her head and look at him.

"How did he know I love you?"

Her heart did a little happy dance at how easily those words flowed from his lips now, then she shrugged.

"He could not have actually _known,_" Ziva reasoned. Then she confided softly, "But he has thought so since sometime before Paris, because he kept telling me I should talk to you about my feelings … as he believed they were returned."

Gibbs was floored. And here he'd thought he'd kept the fact that he was in love with one of his agents completely under lock and key.

Hell, he'd refused to acknowledge it to himself most of the time.

Score one for DiNozzo. A _big_ one.

He released a breath and made an admission of his own.

"He was right. Was jealous as hell when the two of you were in Paris," he revealed. "Berlin, too."

Now it was her turn to be surprised.

"I had no idea," she responded faintly.

"Weren't supposed to," he told her wryly.

Recalling his assumption that she would want to be with Tony if Rule 12 was out of the way and driven to dispel any lingering doubts he might have about her travels with her partner, Ziva cupped the back of his head in one hand and held his gaze with her eyes.

"Jethro, you have absolutely nothing to be jealous of."

"Didn't know that then," he pointed out.

"You do now," she husked firmly, tilting her head and using her hand to bring him to her mouth again, sinking into him with a slow, deep, satisfying kiss that pulled him under, as well.

Finally, Ziva lifted her head and sifted her fingers through his attractive silver hair.

"I will admit I was not convinced I should return here tonight, but Tony was very persistent - and insistent." Her eyes took on a glint of humor. "He even threatened to tie me up and put me on the plane himself."

Gibbs snorted.

"Him and what army?" he asked derisively.

Ziva could not help but laugh as she hugged him close.

"That was my reaction," she admitted with a grin, pressing a kiss to his head. Then her voice dropped to a pleased octave. "And I adore that you had the same one."

She lowered her curved lips to his. Taking them both deeper, he opened his mouth and welcomed her in, claimed hers for his own. This kiss went on and on before they eventually parted, only to come back twice more before pulling slightly apart.

Taking a deep breath, Ziva turned back to her uncertainty about risking everything once more.

"I was never completely certain I should come back, but Tony was so sure …" she admitted, her vulnerable eyes leaving his as her mind wandered back to Israel and her discussions with her partner.

She came back to the present, returning her gaze to his.

"And the truth is that if there was even a chance you really did love me, too, I wanted to be with you too much not to try again at least one more time."

Again, he was flooded with warmth and gratitude and admiration.

"Like I said before," he husked, tucking her hair over her ear. "Strong. Brave."

She shook her head.

"I was thinking more along the lines of idiotic and scared and weak," she admitted wryly.

His brow lowered in confusion at her last word.

"Too weak to be without you," she explained softly.

"You're not weak - or idiotic," he disagreed. "And you came back anyway even though I'd put you in a place where you couldn't be sure, so we're back to strong and brave."

"Even if you are right, it takes more than strong and brave to be a –" _ Wife._ She stopped herself abruptly. She was getting waaaay ahead of where they were. After a mental shake, she continued, "To be a lover. A partner."

She wouldn't really change who she was and she truly did think all they'd each been through made them exactly the right partner for the other, but he wasn't the only one with worries and one of hers was that she wasn't exactly like a lot of other women she knew, especially here in this country.

"Maybe," he allowed, "but you've got everything it takes – including that strong, brave part you need to keep saving me from myself."

A smile tugged at her lips as his eyes twinkled up at her with equal parts affection and truth.

She grew serious again, needing a little more reassurance on this front just now.

"You are certain about the 'everything?'" she asked quietly.

"Never been more certain about anything," he assured her firmly with no room for doubt.

She needed to believe that, so she allowed his certainty to quiet her concerns, at least for now. And, as she pulled him in for yet another soft, tender kiss, a sense of rightness, of completion curled through her that suggested it would not be long before she truly believed it, too.

They didn't break from that kiss. It became deeper, more heated. More desperate. This time, the surge of desire wouldn't be put off. They needed this, needed to lose themselves in each other more than they needed air.

"I want you," she breathed into his ear in a voice that shimmied down his spine.

His breath caught in his chest and his body instantly hardened even further.

While he'd fantasized about this exact moment in this exact place countless times, she deserved more than him taking her on his basement floor.

The first time, anyhow.

"Want you, too. Should move this upstairs," he suggested in a gravelly tone that made her shiver. His lips pressed against that sweet spot where her shoulder met her neck and her body's reaction nudged the moisture forming between her thighs into dampening her panties.

"I do not wish to move anywhere," she husked, rubbing her cheek against his before pulling back to look at him with everything he'd ever hoped to see shining in her eyes.

And more.

"We have shared a lot of history in this basement," Ziva pointed out lovingly, caressing his face with her hand, "and all of it has brought us to where we are now. I think it is the perfect place for us to make love for the first time."

A delicious heat burned in his stomach at her words.

Slowly she smiled, pulling an answering one from him as her fingertips lightly touched his cheek. She gave him a kiss that was sweet and heartfelt and passionate. In tacit agreement, there was no desire to rush and they welcomed the sexy heat that built gradually, was stoked deliberately.

She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, already addicted to the somewhat surprising velvety softness she found there. His hands roamed with a barely-there touch that drove her mad, especially when he slipped those strong, work-roughened hands under her shirt to find more of her skin.

When the buttons on her top proved to be too much for his uncharacteristically fumbling fingers, she gently laid her hands over his.

"Let me," she whispered against his mouth, smiling a siren's smile.

Leaning back just slightly, she stroked a fingertip provocatively along the edge of her shirt until it came to the valley between her breasts that she'd left tantalizingly visible, taking great satisfaction in the fact that he was clearly mesmerized by her movements.

His throat moved as he swallowed hard and his hands gripped her hips reflexively.

Very slowly, both to draw out the anticipation and to revel in the look in his eyes, Ziva opened her shirt and let it slide down her arms to fall onto his thighs. She caught it as the collar reached her hands and then dropped it uncaringly to the floor.

"Ziver." His almost-tortured, awed whisper raised delicious goosebumps down her arms and sent a lightning bolt of both need and fulfillment through her.

She wanted him to want her like this, had, nearly since they'd met.

His eyes roamed over her as his hands came to rest on her waist, then slowly slid up over her smooth toned skin to stop just under her breasts.

Shifting her hips against him instinctively and gripping his strong shoulders, she whimpered softly in need.

Putting her own hand on one of his, she brought his hand up onto her breast.

_God._

Now her wetness flooded her panties and her head fell forward in ecstasy as she felt his hand on her intimate flesh for the first time with only the thin, silky barrier of her bra between them.

He cupped her reverently, raising his other hand to her other breast. Pleasure of his own coursed through him – and caused his body to stiffen, to rise against hers.

Jethro's hands shifted to her back and, taking his time, he managed to unhook her bra, then smoothed it down and off. She sat completely naked from the waist up across his lap, allowing him to look his fill, giving herself over completely to him, to the kaleidoscope of sensations unleashed by the gentle roaming of his hands and eyes all over her.

She was so lovely, she took his breath away and robbed him of the voice with which to tell her.

She got the message anyway and melted even further.

Ziva pulled his mouth back to hers for a series of deep, clinging kisses, wrapping her arms around his neck. As her chest rubbed against his, she realized one of them still had too many clothes on. Earlier, she'd pushed his jacket from his shoulders so she could cuddle closer to his body as they talked. Now, she wordlessly enlisted his help to tug his polo and t-shirt over his head.

And it was her turn to forget to breathe.

He was _so_ incredibly handsome and sexy.

"I love the way you look," she whispered.

Her hands roamed over his chest wondrously, carding through the attractive salt and pepper hair that lightly covered him, thoroughly exploring him for the first time.

"I have dreamed of touching you, of seeing what lies beneath your clothes," she told him in a voice that made his dick twitch. "The reality is so much more incredible."

He nuzzled her throat and nipped at her skin.

"Same here," he shared in a warm, intimate tone.

With loving, sensual smiles that spoke volumes, their mouths came together again, pressing, sucking, licking, opening. The heat kept building at a delicious, but almost leisurely pace until their pulse points were forcibly beating against their veins and their breath was coming faster.

And still, there was no hurry.

She pressed a line of deliberate kisses along his right shoulder, across his throat, switched unhurriedly to his left. He tasted slightly salty, mixed with something uniquely him that was instantly addicting.

Ziva then shifted her bottom further down his legs, moving her mouth slowly over his chest as she went. There was so much more she couldn't wait to explore, but she didn't want to miss a single inch or sensation.

He thought her excruciating lack of speed just might kill him as she took her time unbuckling his belt and carefully unzipping his pants over the bulge that was straining to break free.

Jethro kicked off his shoes and shifted to assist her in removing his pants; she took his plain white, so-him briefs and his socks down with them. Sitting up on her knees between his open legs, she was captivated by the sight of him finally naked before her.

Her eyes swept over him adoringly for a long moment – long enough that he started to shift uncomfortably – before she laid her hands on the tops of his feet and slowly smoothed her fingers up his legs, lightly scraping her nails along his skin here and there as she made her way back up to where his staff was standing at attention and begging for her touch.

She did not disappoint him.

The feel of her hands and mouth on his ultra-sensitive shaft made the decision for him right then and there that if heaven had nothing to do with her lips and hands on his desperate-for-her cock, the powers that be could just punch his ticket to hell right now.

He tangled his hands in her hair, relishing the silky softness and holding it back so he had an unobstructed view of her pleasuring him. After endless breathless moments, needing more of her, too, he tugged gently at her head until she kissed her way back up his body, then stood and slowly, enticingly removed her own pants and underwear, basking in the way his eyes were glued to her, in the fact that she could actually see his pulse beat against his throat.

Then, he reached for her and she was straddling his lap once more.

Cupping his head in her hands, she gazed at him, at last completely open to him in all ways. He memorized the sight of the beautiful smile she gave him, then slowly brought their lips together once more in a heated kiss full of passion.

Gibbs trailed his hands over her again, lingering at her lovely breasts, her nipples that pebbled so satisfyingly at his touch, the curve of her waist, her impossibly flat belly. His hand then dropped to where their laps met and her gasp of pleasure into his mouth nearly severed the reins of his control. He ran his fingers lightly through the tight curls between her legs then played teasingly there, delighting in the sounds she made as her need for him soared at his intimate touch.

Moving languidly as though she were floating, Ziva rose up and guided his mouth to her aching breasts.

_Ohmygod._

Her eyes rolled back and then closed as her head dropped back, her body awash in sensation after delicious sensation. She'd have melted into a gooey puddle on his lap if he hadn't moved one hand up to the center of her back, steadying her, supporting her.

She held him to her as he explored first one silky soft mound, then the other, not even realizing she breathlessly begged him over and over to never stop.

While he'd been ready to consign himself to hell without her, she was certain that she'd died and gone to heaven with him.

And all the while, his fingers continued to tease and explore between her thighs, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

When she could wait no more, Ziva took him in her hand and lined him up at her drenched entrance. After sliding down with agonizing slowness, she began to move on him, with him, savoring the feeling of him inside her…so connected…so complete.

Everything about their lovemaking this first time was incredibly slow and beautiful, all they needed it to be and more.

It healed them. Coupled them. Added promise and worship to the words of love they shared in gasps they couldn't hold in.

It answered questions they hadn't yet asked, allayed concerns not yet spoken out loud.

After countless intoxicating moments that raced faster and faster, together in this as they would now be in all things, their climax crashed like a wave over them simultaneously, binding them even more tightly together.

Utterly sated, her heart full, Ziva laid her head on Jethro's shoulder as they held each other closely simply because they didn't want to let go.

She continued to straddle his lap with her slightly trembling thighs, wishing to hold his softening shaft inside her as long as possible.

When she could breathe, Ziva released a happy sigh.

"In case you are interested, I now have more than one new favorite thing," she confessed in a breathless mumble over her still-pounding heart.

"Yeah?"

She nodded with an answering hum of pleasure and nuzzled her face into his neck before murmuring wickedly into his ear.

The images that slammed into his brain as she spoke in a warm, intimate drawl with her lips brushing his skin, their naked bodies pressed so tightly together not even a whisper of air could have slipped through, knocked the breath out of him.

Then her teeth scraped over his neck and he'd have come again right then if it had been physically possible.

"Just to name a few," she finished, practically purring, steeped in emotional and physical fulfillment.

"Ditto," was all he could manage in that moment, sliding his hands up and down her back and turning his head to press his lips to her cheek.

He felt her smile against him and he couldn't help but grin happily, too, filled with the life-changing certainty that all was right with his world. And there they stayed, both unwilling – and unable – to move, relishing the feeling of being comfortable with each other, absorbing one another, and allowing the night's revelations to settle.

Glancing out the window without lifting her head, Ziva noticed the first weak rays of daylight that were slowly becoming visible through the windows.

"The sun is coming up," she observed almost sleepily, tilting her head back to find his gaze with hers. "It is a new day."

He nodded.

"Good day for holding on," Gibbs offered, smiling down at her tenderly with forever promised in his eyes.

"It is a very good day for that," Ziva agreed with blissful contentment positively radiating from her.

Then, grasping that courage he so admired and relied upon, she spoke her most closely kept longing out loud in the form of a soft question.

"And perhaps for never letting go - ?"

The love and certainty in his brilliant blue eyes sent her heart soaring even before his warm declaration brought their promise full circle.

"Got that right - never letting go."

_~ The End ~_

* * *

_A/N: At the risk of breaking Rule 6, I feel like I should apologize for the delay in posting this. I swear I had no idea it was going to get persnickety on me, refusing to feel "just right" until now. Special thanks and a HUG to my very dear friend molly2012 for the input and reassurance when I was over-thinking and over-fiddling. xoxoxo _

_And RL was not helping matters. _

_This one is now complete, though perhaps we'll revisit this universe at some point. Who knows? =)_

_I still have not watched NCIS beyond the premiere; perhaps I finally will now that I have this up. We'll see ...  
_

_We'll be heading back to "Waves of Grace" next and stopping by "Zibbs Family Fun" after that, I think. _

_Speaking of the Revelations universe, I spent yesterday afternoon attending a football game in which the Navy team played a university near where I live, and I kept thinking of Chapter 9 in Revelations where Ziva and Jackson watched Navy play Penn State when she and Gibbs visited Stillwater. Remember that? That was fun to write and it was heartwarming to feel connected to Ziva in that way yesterday, especially since ... well. You know. Last night I just had to go back and reread that part, and that was fun, too. ^_^_

_As always, thanks so much for joining me on my journeys with Ziva and Gibbs, even when these "sidebar" pieces hijack my muse. Your reading and your reviews really mean a lot._


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